


Practice and Familiarity

by Tamahariel



Series: Drabbles [8]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Foreplay, Hawkecest, Incest, M/M, Never Idyllic Verse, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2501147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamahariel/pseuds/Tamahariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Domesticity meme: Exploring one another’s bodies<br/>Never Idyllic universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice and Familiarity

The soft sparks of disturbed embers outlined his older brother’s body by the fireplace when he woke. Carver watched him quietly as the man stirred the coals and fed the licks of fire with light kindle and wood, squatting before the flames in a loose shirt too big for his frame, yet not big enough to hide the bow of his thighs.

A rustle and creak of the bed from the shifting of weight within it had Garrett turning his head, barely able to see his brother’s features in the soft light. He wondered for only a moment if he was awake before the covers pulled to the side and a big hand beckoning him over confirmed his brother’s state of wakefulness.

For a moment he didn’t move, looking at the figure of his brother waiting in bed, seeing the lights barely touch his brother’s chest and stomach, the rest of him hidden by folds and shadows too dark to see through. The fire crackled behind him and he turned to it, leaning the wood in his hand against the slowly burning formation in its midst. Then he rose, taloned hands on knobby knees aiding the movement, bowed legs unfurled and back standing straight. His hands went to the edges of his shirt, then above his head, the cloth following the movement and dropping quietly to the floor were he dropped it.

Then he turned once more, bare feet tapping on the cold floor as he walked over to the welcoming embrace waiting in the shadows. Garrett had but put a knee on the mattress when his brother, impatient and strong enough to act on it, pulled him down and beneath him.

"You’re slow." He said, pulling at the blankets that had grown tangled in the movement. Garrett didn’t reply and Carver didn’t expect it, simply pulling the covers over his hip, resting on the curve of his ass and valley of his lower back.

Garrett watched the light and shadows change and sharpen the angles of his brother’s body as he moved, traced the lines of muscle on his arms to his shoulder, eyes distracted by the shifting line and dip of his clavicle. Above it, adams apple and stubble, thin lips above a wide jaw. He swallowed and sought his brother’s gaze but found it traveling across his own body, lashes and lids falling lower along with his gaze across Garrett’s flesh.

Carver’s hand fell warm and wide on his stomach, moving with the rise and fall of his breath, fingers bowing and slowly dragging through the trail of coarse hair, raising gooseflesh and instigating a shudder that bowed his back, hips pushed up into the hand inching closer. Color not seen in the dusky light bloomed across his skin as Carver’s touch went from clawed fingertips to a calloused warmth enveloping his cock.

It had grown easier with time Carver had noticed, playing his brother’s body, exciting it, dominating it. He didn’t know whether it was practice and familiarity nor did he care. What he cared about was the involuntary twitch of hips and the suddenly excited breaths that filled and left his brother’s chest at a faster pace. It made his lips curve into a smile, teeth barely showing as his grip grew firmer and his thumb brushed down the side of his brother’s cock, soft foreskin following the movement.

Garrett wasn’t a loud man unless the situation called for it. As his brother began to fondle his cock, a confident and pleased smile on his face, he felt a soft sound leave his throat in an exhale.

His hands that had lain motionless at his sides reached for the body above him, the thumb of one hand finding the hollow above his collarbone while the other fingers curved over the tense line of his shoulder. The other hand pressed softly against the broad expanse of his brother’s chest. Moving his hand he felt the strong muscles beneath and a twitch going through them as he stroked over a dark nipple.

A moment later his hand was slapped back and then pinned to the bed, the confident smirk on Carver’s face replaced by flustered petulance, a look not entirely unbecoming. He hadn’t said a word, nor intended to, but Carver told him to shut up, a warning followed by lips on his own as a seal.

With Carver above him, claiming his mouth with his tongue and the space between his legs with his own, he found his fingers settling on familiar places, digging into the shifting dips and hills of shoulder blades and muscle as well as the wrinkled linens beneath their bodies. He found that it had grown easier with time to find his place in the ebb and flow of their movements. Whether it was practice and familiarity or something else entirely, Garrett did not care. All he cared about was the moment of peace he found in the confines of this one room, intertwined with his brother and covers a deep burgundy red.


End file.
